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 THE I 
 
 DISTREST MOTHER,! 
 
 A COMEDY ; 
 
 ®n\1)VQ8t iwiiiipg. 
 
 boston : 
 
 published by wells and lilly— court-street : 
 
 AND 
 
 A. T. GOODRICH & CO. NEW- YORK. 
 1822. 
 
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$1*3>S 
 
 CONTAINED IN THIS EDITION, AS FAR AS YET PUB- 
 LISHED IN ENGLAND. 
 
 . 1 A New Way to Pay Old 
 
 36 Country Girl. 
 
 Debts. 
 
 37 Jane Shore. 
 
 2 Rivals. 
 
 38 Critic. * 
 
 3 West Indian. 
 
 4 Hypocrite. 
 
 39 Coriolanus. 
 
 40 Rosina. * 
 
 5 Jealous Wife. 
 
 41 Suspicious Husband. 
 
 6 She Stoops to Conquer. 
 
 42 Honest Thieves. * 
 
 7 Richard III. 
 
 43 Mayor of Garratt. * 
 
 8 BeggarVOpera. 
 
 44 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 9 Wonder. 
 
 45 Stranger. 
 
 10 Duenna. 
 
 46 Three Weeks after Mar- 
 
 1 1 Alexander the Great. 
 
 riage. * 
 
 12 Lionel and Clarissa. 
 
 47 King Lear. 
 
 13 Hamlet. 
 
 48 Inconstant. 
 
 14 Venice Preserved. 
 
 49 Shipwreck. * 
 
 15 Is He Jealous? * 
 
 50 Rugantino. .* 
 
 16 The Woodman's Hut. * 
 
 51 Wild Oats. 
 
 17 Love in a Village. 
 
 52 Rule a Wife and Have a 
 
 18 Way to Keep Him. 
 
 Wife. 
 
 19 Castle Spectre. 
 
 53 Magpie. * 
 
 20 Maid of the Mill. 
 
 54 Quaker. * 
 
 21 Clandestine Marriage. 
 
 55 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 22 Soldier's Daughter. 
 
 56 Wheel of Fortune. 
 
 23 Othello. 
 
 57 Rob Roy. 
 
 24 Distressed Mother. 
 
 58 Citizen. * 
 
 25 Provoked Husband. 
 
 59 Deserter. * 
 
 26 Deaf and Dumb. 
 
 60 Miser. * 
 
 27 Busy Body. 
 
 61 Guy Mannering. 
 
 28 Belle's Stratagem. 
 
 62 Cymbeline. 
 
 29 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 63 Lying Valet. * 
 
 30 Recruiting Officer. 
 
 64 Twelfth Night. 
 
 31 Bold Stroke for a Wife. 
 
 65 The Confederacy. 
 
 32 Road to Ruin. 
 
 QG Douglas. 
 
 33 Beaux' Stratagem. 
 
 67 Who's the Dupe ? * 
 
 34 As you Like It. 
 
 68 Know Your own Mind. 
 
 35 King John. 
 
 
 O 3 Those marked thus * are Farces or Melo-drames ; the 
 prices of which are 20 cents; the Plays and Operas 25 cents. 
 
/ 
 
 THE DISTREST MOTHER, 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 WITH PREFATORY REMARKS. 
 
 fHE ONLY EDITION EXISTING, WHICH IS FAITHFULLY 
 
 MARKED WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, 
 
 AND STAGE DIRECTIONS, 
 
 AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE 
 By W. OXBERRY, Comedian. 
 
 boston: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY WELLS AND LILLY — COURT-STREET '. 
 AND A. T. GOODRICH & CO. — NEW-YORK. 
 
 1822. 
 
V 6 
 
 fill*"*- 
 // 
 
 
Hemarte 
 
 THE DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 JjIr. Ambrose Philips, the translator of this tragedy, 
 descended from an ancient family in Leicestershire, where 
 he was born about the year 1681. He received his educa- 
 tion at St. John's College, Cambridge, and during his resi- 
 dence at that place, wrote the pastoral poems which pro- 
 cured him so high a reputation upon their appearance, as 
 to provoke the animosity of Pope, with whose comparative 
 efforts, by many partizans of Mr. Philips, they were in- 
 discreetly contrasted. On quitting the university, he re- 
 paired to London, and by a constant attendance at But- 
 ton's Coffee-house, to which the wits of that period inva- 
 riably resorted, he at once obtained their acquaintance, 
 and was soon enrolled among their number. Sir Rich- 
 ard Steele honoured him with the earliest attention, and 
 in the first volume of his " Tatler" inserted a little essay, 
 dated by Mr. Philips from Copenhagen, which he called a 
 " Winter-piece," and addressed to the Earl of Dorset. 
 This production had, indeed, such singular merit as to fix 
 the praise of Mr. Pope, who amidst the most contemptuous 
 mention of every other effort, excepted this from the scope 
 of his resentment, and the severity of his censure. 
 
The struggle between Pope and Philips for the palm of 
 pastoral excellence was so closely contested, in the eye 
 of public opinion, that Steele determined to turn the 
 scale in favour of his friend, by devoting a few pages of the 
 " Guardian" to a critical estimate of his claims. This de- 
 sign was not effectually concealed from Pope who, by a 
 stratagem of the most artful kind, warded off the impend- 
 ing blow, and ruined his rival's pretensions. He took the 
 task anonymously upon himself, supplied Sir Richard 
 Steele with equivocal arguments for a fallacious prefer- 
 ence, and succeeded in pointing out the absurdity of his pro- 
 jected judgment. This discordance was fomented by poli- 
 tical enmity, and Philips forgot himself so far as to me- 
 nace Mr. Pope with manual chastisement, a threat, how- 
 ever, which circumstances saved him the disgrace of at- 
 tempting to realize. 
 
 In one of his early works,* he had testified public prin- 
 ciples of an acceptable nature, and beneath the patronage 
 of a whig administration, found an easy road to servile 
 affluence He was a justice of the peace and commissioner 
 for lotteries in this country, and on crossing the channel 
 with Dr. Hugh Boulter, appointed to the Primacy of 
 Ireland, among more substantial preferment, he obtained a 
 seat in the Irish House of Commons, as representative for 
 the county of Armagh. Having, by annuity, secured a 
 handsome permanent income, he returned finally to Eng- 
 land, where being soon afterwards struck with the palsy, 
 he died at his lodgings in Vauxhall, June the 18th, 1749, 
 on the verge of four-score. 
 
 * The " Life of John Williams, , • Archbishop of York, and 
 Lord-keeper of the Great Seal, in the successive reigns of 
 James the First and his unfortunate son* 
 
Although the "Briton" and "Humphry, Duke of Glos- 
 ter," are tragedies from which Mr. Philips derived con- 
 siderable reputation, his name as a dramatist is exclusively 
 preserved by the " Distrest Mother," which demands the 
 praise of criticism, as a translated effort, for the vigorous 
 fidelity of its adaption to the English stage. Its original 
 was produced, under the title of " Andromaque," with 
 success by Racine, in 1667, and although fraught with the 
 worst errors of French habit, — attenuated declamation and 
 fabular heaviness, — acts with a powerful hand, in some 
 parts, upon the springs of mental emotion. Montflury, 
 a capital comedian of that age, made such prodigious efforts 
 in the part of Orestes, that it brought upon him an imme- 
 diate fit of illness, and ultimately occasioned his death. It 
 may, perhaps, be mentioned as a still more singular fact in 
 connexion with the writings of Racine,* that his wife, 
 
 * This amiable man died a martyr to chagrin, in the year 
 1699, because Louis xiv, his unnecessary patron, expressed 
 some displeasure at a memorial composed in eloquent terms, 
 and presented with respectful firmness by the poet, in favour 
 of his suffering countrymen, whom the Royal Dunce had 
 done his utmost to load with poverty, oppression, and dis- 
 grace. Such, by the way, was this Prince's excessive igno- 
 rance, that Voltaire, who has testified no inclination to 
 exaggerate his defects, asserts that his preceptor, though an 
 able and learned man, could not excite him to the slightest 
 literary acquirement. His knowledge of the Scriptures, 
 above all, seems to have been singularly limited, for when 
 endeavouring to persuade the Marquis du Quesne, a firm 
 old protestant, to change his religion in the decline of life, 
 that nobleman frankly answered, " Sire, fai rendu asses 
 fang-temps a Cesar, ce qui est du a Cesar ; il est temps que 
 
 1 
 j 
 
either by perusal or representation, was never made ac- 
 quainted with a single line of those distinguished composi- 
 tions which reflected such lustre upon her immortal hus- 
 band. 
 
 When the reader has been told that history is com- 
 pletely falsified by the imputed death of Hermione, who 
 not only survived Pyrrhus, but became the wife of 
 Orestes, we have but few further observations to offer. 
 The " Distrest Mother," as a dramatic narrative, is entitled 
 to applause, and the frenzy of its principal character has 
 some temptations for expressive powers which must secure 
 to it an occasional performance. We do not think, how- 
 ever, it can be rendered a source of popular gratification by 
 the grandest abilities, and even without that belief, we 
 should feel no anxiety to hazard the experiment. 
 
 je rende aussi a Dieu y ce qui lui est du" So little did Louis 
 understand this figurative language, that, turning to the by- 
 standers, be observed, " Est ce que la tete tourne a cet horn* 
 me ? veut il servir Vempereur . ? " 
 
iitoiogue. 
 
 Since Fancy by itself is loose and vain, 
 The wise by rules that airy power restrain : 
 They think those writers mad, who, at their ease, 
 Convey this house and audience where they please ; 
 Who Nature's stated distances confound, 
 And make this spot all soils the sun goes round. 
 'Tis nothing, when a fancied scene's in view, 
 To skip from Covent Garden to Peru, 
 
 But Shakspeare's self transgrest ; and shall each elf 
 Each pigmy genius, quote great Shakspeare's self! 
 What critic dares prescribe what's just and fit, 
 Or mark out limits for such boundless wit ! 
 Shakspeare could travel thro' earth, sea, and air, 
 And point out all the powers and wonders there. 
 In barren deserts he makes Nature smile, 
 And gives us feasts in his enchanted Isle. 
 Our author does his feeble force confess, 
 Nor dares pretend such merit to transgress ; 
 Does not such shining gifts of genius share, 
 And therefore makes propriety his care. 
 Your treat with studied decency he serves ; 
 Not only rules of time and place preserves, 
 But strives to keep his character entire, 
 With French correctness, and with British fire. 
 
 This piece, presented in a foreign tongue, 
 When France was glorious and her monarch young, 
 An hundred times a crowded audience drew,— - 
 An hundred times repeated, still 'twas new. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 Pyrrhus, provok'd to no wild rants betray'd 
 Resents his generous love so ill repaid ; 
 Does like a man resent, a prince upbraid ; 
 His sentiments disclose a royal mind ; 
 .Nor is he known a king from guards behind. 
 
 Injur'd Hcrmione demands relief, 
 But not from heavy narratives of grief ; 
 In conscious majesty her pride is shewn, — 
 Born to avenge her wrongs, but not bemoan. 
 
 Andromache. — If in our author's lines, 
 As in the great original she shines, 
 Nothing but from barbarity she fears, 
 Attend with silence, you'll applaud with tear?. 
 
QtQBtXtmt. 
 
 PYRRHUS. 
 BuflTand silver cuirass and lambrakeens, purple velvet robe richly em- 
 broidered, white shirt, spangled ; flesh arms and legs, and sandals. 
 ORESTES. 
 White kerseymere robe, shirt, and belt, embroidered, flesh arms and 
 legs, sandals, and bandeau for the head. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 White shirt, spangled ; scarlet robe, and belt, embroidered 5 flesh 
 "ms and legs, and sandals. 
 
 PHCENIX. 
 Scarlet and silver cuirass and lambrakeens, scarlet mantle, flesh arms 
 and legs, and sandals. 
 
 ANDROMACHE. 
 Black muslin petticoat, tunic and robe, trimmed with black fringe. 
 Second dress. White muslin petticoat, tunic, and robe, trimmed with 
 silver. Tiara of jewels on the head. 
 
 HERMIONE. 
 
 White China crape dress and drapery, trimmed with gold. Tiara for 
 the head. 
 
 CLEONE. 
 White muslin dresls. 
 
 CEPHISA. 
 White muslin dress. 
 
 SFtmr of Mzpxmntution. 
 
 The time this piece takes in representation, is nearly 
 two hours. The first act occupies the space of thirty mi- 
 nutes — the second, twenty — the third, twenty-three — the 
 fourth, twenty — and the fifth, twenty minutes. — The half- 
 price commences, generally, at a quarter before nine 
 o'clock. 
 
 2 
 
iSenams fteyresetttett* 
 
 1818. 1816. 
 
 Drury.lane. CovenUgardetl. 
 
 Pyrrhus Mr. D. Fisher. Mr. C. Kemble. 
 
 Orestes s . Mr. Kean. Mr. Macready. 
 
 Pylades Mr. Barnard. Mr. Abbott. 
 
 Phoenix . . Mr. Ley. Mr. Claremoiit. 
 
 Hermione Mrs. W. West. Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 Andromache Mrs. Glover. Mrs. Glover. 
 
 Cleone . . . . Miss Cooke. Miss Logan. 
 
 Cephisa ..»•••«. Miss I vers, Mrs. Sterling. 
 
 Stage Directions. 
 
 By R.H. ----- is meant Right Hand. 
 
 l.h. Left Hand. 
 
 S.E. ---------- — — - Second Entrance. 
 
 u.E. - — ---- — ------ Upper Entrance. 
 
 M.D. Middle Door. 
 
 D.F. Door in Flat. 
 
 r.h.d. Right Hand Door. 
 
 L.H.D. Left Hand Door. 
 
THE 
 
 DISTREST MOTHER- 
 
 act i. 
 
 SCENE I. — Interior of a Palace, with a view of 
 the sea. 
 
 Enter Orestes, Pylades, and Attendants, l.h. 
 
 Ores. O, Pylades! what's life without a friend! 
 At sight of thee my gloomy soul cheers up, 
 My hopes revive, and gladness dawns within me. 
 After an absence of six tedious moons, 
 How could I hope to find my Pylades, 
 My joy, my comfort ! on this fatal shore ? 
 Even in the court of Pyrrhus? in these realms. 
 These hated realms, so cross to all my wishes? 
 O, my brave friend ! may no blind stroke of fate 
 Divide us more, and tear me from myself. 
 
 Pyl. O, prince ! O, my Orestes ! O my friend !— 
 Thus let me speak the welcome of my heart. 
 
 (Em bracing. y 
 Since I have gain'd this unexpected meeting, 
 Blest be the powers that barrM my way toGreece, 
 And kept me here ! ever since the unhappy day 
 
12 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 When warring winds (Epirus full in view) 
 Sunder' d our barks on the loud stormy main. 
 Ores. It was indeed, a morning full of horror ! 
 Pyl. A thousand boding cares have rack'd my 
 
 soul 
 In your behalf. Often, with tears I mourn'd 
 The fatal ills, in which your life's involv'd ; 
 And grudg'd you dangers which 1 could not share. 
 I fear'd to what extremities the black despair 
 That prey'd upon your mind, might have be- 
 
 tray'd you, 
 And lest the gods, in pity to your woes, 
 Should hear your pray'rs, and take the life you 
 
 loath'd. 
 But now with joy I see you ! — The retinue, 
 And numerous followers that surround you here. 
 Speak better fortunes, and a mind dispos'd 
 To relish life. 
 
 Ores. Alas ! my friend, who knows 
 The destiny, to which i stand reserv'd ! 
 I come in search of an inhuman fair ; 
 And live or die, as she decrees my fate. 
 
 Pyl. You much surprise me, prince ! 1 thought 
 
 you cur'd 
 Of your unpity'd, unsuccessful passion. 
 Why, in Epirus, should you hope to find 
 Hermione less cruel, than at Sparta ? 
 I thought her pride, and the disdainful manner 
 In which she treated all your constant sufferings, 
 Had broke your fetters,and assured your freedom: 
 Asham'd of your repulse, and slighted vows, 
 You hated her : you talk'd of her no more ; 
 Prince, you deceiv'd me. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 13 
 
 Ores. I deceiv'd myself. 
 Do not upbraid the unhappy man that loves thee. 
 Thou know'st I never hid my passion from thee ; 
 Thou saw'st it, in its birth, and in its progress : 
 And when at last, the hoary king her father, 
 Great Menelaus, gave away his daughter, 
 His lovely daughter, to the happy Pyrrhus, 
 Th' avenger of his wrongs, thou saw'st my grief, 
 My torture, my despair; 
 O, Pylades ! my heart has bled within me, 
 To see thee prest with sorrows not thy own, 
 Still wand'ring with me, like a banishM man, 
 Watchful, and anxious for thy wretched friend, 
 To temper the wild transports of my mind, 
 And save me from myself. 
 
 Pyl. Why thus unkind ? 
 Why will you envy me the pleasing task 
 Of generous love, and sympathizing friendship? 
 
 Ores. Thou miracle of truth ! — But hear me on. 
 When in the midst of my disastrous fate, 
 I thought how the divine Hermoine, 
 Deaf to my vows, regardless of my plaints, 
 Gave up herself, and all her charms, to Pyrrhus : 
 Thou may'st remember, I abhorr'd her name, 
 Strove to forget her, and repay her scorn. 
 I made my friends, and even myself, believe 
 My soul was freed. Alas ! I did not see, 
 That all the malice of my heart was love. 
 Triumphing thus, and yet a captive still, 
 In Greece 1 landed, and in Greece I found 
 The assembled princes all alarmM with fears, 
 In which their common safety seem'd concern'd. 
 I join'd them : for I hop'd that war and glory 
 

 14 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Might fill my mind, and make up all my thoughts; 
 And that my shatter'd soul, impaired with grief, 
 Once more would reassume its wonted vigour, 
 And every idle passion quit my breast. 
 
 Pyl. The thought was worthy Agamemnon's 
 son. 
 
 Ores. But see the strange perverseness of my 
 stars, 
 Which throws me on the rock I strove to shun ! 
 The jealous chiefs, and all the states of Greece, 
 With one united voice complain of Pyrrhus ; 
 That now, forgetful of the promise giv'n, 
 And mindless of his godlike father's fate, 
 Astyanax he nurses in his court ; 
 Astyanax, the young, surviving hope 
 Of ruin'd Troy ; Astyanax, descended 
 From a long race of kings — great Hector's son. 
 
 Pyl.A name still dreadful in the ears of Greece ! 
 But, prince, you'll cease to wonder, why the child 
 Lives thus protected in the court of Pyrrhus, 
 When you shall hear, the bright Andromache, 
 His lovely captive, charms him from his purpose: 
 The mother's beauty guards the helpless son. 
 
 Ores. Your tale confirms what I have heard ; 
 and hence 
 Spring all my hopes. Since my proud rival woos 
 Another partner to his throne and bed, 
 Hermoine may still be mine. Her father, 
 The injur'd Menelaus, thinks already 
 His daughter slighted, and th' intended nuptials 
 Too long delay'd. I heard his loud complaints 
 With secret pleasure ; and was glad to find 
 Th' ungrateful maid neglected in her turn, 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 15 
 
 And all my wrongs aveng'd in her disgrace. 
 
 Pyl. Oh, may you keep your just resentments 
 warm ! 
 
 Ores. Resentments ! O my friend too soon I 
 found 
 They grew not out of hatred I'm betray'd : 
 I practise on myself, and fondly plot 
 My own undoing. Goaded on by love, 
 I canvass'd all the suffrages of Greece ; 
 And here 1 come, their sworn ambassador, 
 To speak their jealousies, and claim this boy. 
 
 Pyl. Pyrrhus will treat your embassy with 
 scorn, 
 Full of Achilles, his redoubted sire ; 
 Pyrrhus is proud, impetuous, headstrong, fierce ; 
 Made up of passions: w T ill he then be sway'd, 
 And give to death the son of her he loves? 
 
 Ores. Oh, would he render up Hermione, 
 And keep Astyanax, 1 should be blest ! 
 He must ; he shall : Hermione is my life, 
 My soul, my rapture ! — Pll no longer curb 
 The strong desire that hurries me to madness ; 
 I'll give a loose to love ; Pll bear her hence ; 
 Pll tear her from his arms; Pll — O, ye Gods ! 
 Give me Hermione, or let me die ! — 
 
 (Crosses to l.it.) 
 But tell me, Pylades, how stand my hopes ? 
 Is Pyrrhus still enamour'd with her charms ? 
 Or dost thou think he'll yield me up the prize. 
 The dear, dear prize, which he has ravish'd 
 from me ! 
 
 Pyl. I dare not flatter your fond hopes so far ; 
 The king indeed, cold to the Spartan princess, 
 
1G DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Turns all his passion to Andromache, 
 
 Hector's afflicted widow. But in vain, 
 
 With interwoven love and rage, he sues 
 
 The charming captive, obstinately cruel. 
 
 Oft he alarms her for her child, confin'd 
 
 Apart ; and when her tears begin to flow, 
 
 As soon he stops them, and recals his threats. 
 
 Hermione a thousand times has seen 
 
 His ill-requited vows return to her ; 
 
 And takes his indignation all for love. 
 
 What can be gather'd from a man so various ? 
 
 He may, in the disorder of his soul, 
 
 Wed her he hates, and punish her he loves. 
 
 Ores. But tell me, how the wrong'd Hermione 
 Brooks her slow nuptials,and dishonour'd charms? 
 V^ Pyl. Hermione would fain be thought to scorn 
 
 Her wavering lover, and disdain his falsehood ; 
 But spite of all her pride and conscious beauty, 
 She mourns in secret her neglected charms, 
 And oft has made me privy to her tears ; 
 Still threatens to be gone, yet still she stays, 
 And sometimes sighs, and wishes for Orestes. 
 
 Ores. Ah, were those wishes from her heart 
 my friend, 
 I'd fly in transport-— (Flourish within^ r.h.) 
 
 Pyl. Hear U — The king approaches 
 To give you audience. Speak your embassy 
 Without reserve : urge the demands of Greece ; 
 And in the name of all her kings, require 
 That Hector's son be given into your hands. 
 Pyrrhus^ instead of granting what they ask, 
 To speed his love, and win the Trojan dame. 
 Will make it merit to preserve her son. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 17 
 
 But, see : he comes ! 
 
 Ores. Meanwhile, my Pylades, 
 Go, and dispose Hermione to see 
 
 (Pylades, Crosses to l.h.) 
 Her lover, who is come thus far, to throw 
 Himself in all his sorrows at her feet. 
 
 [A Flourish. Exit Pylades, l.h. 
 
 Enter Pyrrhus, Phcenix, and Attendants, r.h. 
 
 Before I speak the message of the Greeks, 
 
 Permit me, sir, to glory in the title 
 
 Of their ambassador; since 1 behold 
 
 Troy s vanquisher, and great Achilles' son ; 
 
 Nor does the son rise short of such a father : 
 
 If Hector fell by him, Troy fell by you. 
 
 But what your father never would have done, 
 
 You do. You cherish the remains of Troy ; 
 
 And by an ill-tim'd pity, keep alive 
 
 The dying embers of a ten year's war. 
 
 Have you so soon forgot the mighty Hector ? 
 
 TheGreeks remember his high brandish'd sword, 
 
 That fill'd their state with widows and with 
 
 orphans ; 
 For which they call for vengeance on his son. 
 Who knows what he may one day prove ? Who 
 
 knows 
 But he may brave us in our ports, and, filFd 
 With Hector's fury, set our fleets on blaze ? 
 You may yourself, live to repent your mercy^ 
 Comply then with the Grecians' just demands ; 
 Satiate their vengeance, and preserve yourself 
 
 
 
18 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Pyr. The Greeks are for my safety more con- 
 cern'd 
 Than I desire. I thought your kings mere met 
 On more important counsel. When I heard 
 The name of their ambassador, I hop'd 
 Some glorious enterprize was taking birth. 
 Is Agamemnon's son dispatch'd for this ? 
 And do the Grecian chiefs, renown'd in war, 
 A race of heroes, join in close debate, 
 To plot an infant s death ? — What right has 
 
 Greece 
 To ask his life ? Must I, must I alone, 
 Of all her scepter' d warriors, be deny'd 
 To treat my captive as I please ? Know, prince, 
 When Troy lay smoking on the ground, and each 
 Proud victor shar'd the harvest of the war, 
 Andromache, and this her son were mine ; 
 Were mine by lot. And who shall wrest them 
 
 from me ? 
 Ulysses bore away old Priam's queen; 
 Cassandra was your own great father's prize : 
 Did I concern myself in what they won? 
 Did I send embassies to claim their captives ? 
 
 Ores. But,sir, we fear for you, and for ourselves. 
 Troy may again revive, and a new Hector 
 Rise in Astyanax. Then think betimes — 
 
 Pyr. Let dastard souls be timorously wise : 
 But tell them, Pyrrhus knows not how to form 
 Far fancy'd ills, and dangers out of sight. 
 
 Ores. Sir, call to mind the unrivall'd strength 
 of Troy, 
 Her walls, her bulwarks, and her gates of brass ; 
 Her kings, her heroes, and embattled armies ! 
 
DISTREST M OTHER. 1 9 
 
 Pyr. I call them all to mind ; and see them all 
 Confus'd in dust ; all mixt in one wide ruin ; 
 All but a child, and he in bondage held. 
 What vengeance can we fear from such a Troy ? 
 If they have sworn to extinguish Hector's race, 
 Why was their vow for twelve long months de- 
 ferred ? 
 Why was he not in Priam's bosom slain ? 
 He should have fall'n among the slaughter'd 
 heaps, [J us t> 
 
 Whelm'd under Troy. His death had then been 
 My fury then was without bounds ; but now, 
 My wrath appeas'd, must I be cruel still ? 
 And, deaf to all the tender calls of pity, 
 Like a cool murderer, bathe my hands in blood? 
 An infant's blood ? — No, prince — Go, bid the 
 
 Greeks 
 Mark out some other victim ; my revenge 
 Has had its fill. What has escap'd from Troy, 
 Shall not be sav'd to perish in Epirus. 
 
 Ores. I need not tell you, sir, Astyanax 
 Was doom'd to death in Troy ; nor mention how 
 The crafty mother sav'd her darling son. [tence : 
 The Greeks do now but urge their former sen- 
 Nor is't the boy, but Hector they pursue ; 
 The father draws their vengeance on the son — 
 The father, who so oft in Grecian blood 
 Has drench'd his sword — the father, whom the 
 
 Greeks, 
 May seek e'en here — Prevent them, sir, in time. 
 Pyr. No! let them come ; since 1 was born 
 to wage 
 Eternal wars. Let them now turn their arms 
 
20 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 On him who conquer'd for them. Let them 
 
 come, 
 And in Epirus seek another Troy. 
 'Twas thus they recompenc'd my godlike sire ; 
 Thus was Achilles thank'd. But, prince, re- 
 member, 
 Their black ingratitude then cost them dear. 
 Ores. Shall Greece then find a rebel son in 
 Pyrrhus ? [Greece ? 
 
 Pyr. Have I then conquered to depend on 
 Ores. Hermione will sway your soul to peace, 
 And mediate 'twixt her father and yourself. 
 Her beauty will enforce my embassy. 
 
 Pyr. Hermione may have her charms, and I 
 May love her still, tho' not her father's slave. 
 I may, in time, give proofs that I'm a lover, 
 But never must forget that I'm a king. 
 Meanwhile, sir, you may see fair Helen's daugh- 
 ter : 
 I know how near in blood you stand ally'd. 
 That done, you have my answer, prince. The 
 No doubt, expect your quick return. [Greeks, 
 [Exeunt Orestes, and Attendant, l.h. 
 Phcen. Sir, do you send your rival to the prin- 
 cess ? 
 Pyr. I am told that he has lov'd her long. 
 Pharn. If so, 
 Have you not cause to fear the smother'd flame 
 May kindle at her sight, and blaze a-new ; 
 And she be wrought to listen to his passion : 
 Pyr. Ay, let them, Phoenix, let them love their 
 fill! 
 Let them go hence ; let them depart together : 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 21 
 
 Together let them sail for Sparta; all my ports 
 Are open to them both. From what constraint, 
 What irksome thoughts, should I then be re- 
 
 Phcen. But, sir — [liev'd ! 
 
 Pyr. I shall another time, good Phoenix, 
 Unbosom to thee all my thoughts — For, see, 
 Andromache appears. [Exit, Phoenix, r.h, 
 
 Enter Andromache, and Cephisa, l.h. 
 
 May I, madam, 
 
 Flatter my hopes so far as to believe 
 
 You come to seek me here ? 
 
 Andr. This way, sir, leads 
 To those apartments where you guard my son. 
 Since you permit me, once a-day, to visit 
 All I have left of Hector and of Troy, 
 I go to weep a few sad moments with him. 
 I have not yet to-day embrac'd my child ; 
 I have not heid him in my widow'd arms. 
 
 Pyr. Ah, madam ! should the threats of 
 Greece prevail, 
 You'll have occasion for your tears, indeed ! 
 
 Andr. Alas ! what threats ? What can alarm 
 the Greeks ? 
 There are no Trojans left. 
 
 Pyr. Their hate to Hector 
 Can never die : the terror of his name [son. 
 Still shakes their souls, and makes them dread his 
 
 Andr. A mighty honour for victorious Greece, 
 To fear an infant, a poor friendless child ! 
 Who smiles in bondage, nor yet knows himself 
 The son of Hector, and the slave of Pvrrhus, 
 3 
 
22 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Pyr. Weak as he is, the Greeks demand his life, 
 And send no less than Agamemnon's son 
 To fetch him hence. 
 
 Andr. And, sir, do you comply 
 With such demands ! — This blow is aim'd at me, 
 How should the child avenge his slaughter'd 
 
 sire? 
 But, cruel men ! they will not have him live 
 To cheer my heavy heart, and ease my bonds. 
 I promis'd to myself in him a son, 
 In him a friend, a husband, and a father. 
 But I must suffer sorrow heap'd on sorrow, 
 And still the fatal stroke must come from you. 
 
 Pyr. Dry up those tears ; I must not see you 
 weep ; 
 And know, I have rejected their demands. 
 The Greeks already threaten me with war ; 
 But, should they arm, as once they did, for Helen, 
 And hide the Adriatic with their fleets ; 
 Should they prepare a second ten-years siege, 
 And lay my towers and palaces in dust ; 
 I am determined to defend your son, 
 And rather die myself than give him up. 
 But, madam, in the midst of all these dangers, 
 Will you refuse me a propitious smile ? 
 Hated of Greece, and prest on every side, 
 Let me not, madam, while I fight your cause, 
 Let me not combat with your cruelties, 
 And count Andromache amongst my foes, 
 
 Andr. Consider, sir, how this will sound in 
 Greece! 
 How can so great a soul betray such weakness? 
 Let not men say, so generous a design 
 Was but the transport of a heart in love. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 23 
 
 Pyr. Your charms will justify me to the world. 
 
 Andr. How can Andromache, a captive queen, 
 O'erwhelm'd with grief, a burden to herself, ^ 
 
 Harbour a thought of love ? Alas ! what charms 
 Have these unhappy eyes, by you condemn 1 d 
 To weep for ever? — Talk of it no more. — ^ 
 
 To reverence the misfortunes of a foe ; 
 To succour the distrest ; to give the son 
 To an afflicted mother; to repel """^^^^N^ 
 
 Confederate nations, leagu'd against his life ; 
 Unbrib'd by love, unterrify'd by threats, 
 To pity, to protect hirn : these are cares, 
 These are exploits worthy Achilles' son. [ever? 
 
 Pyr. Will your resentments, then, endure for *~"^ 
 Must Pyrrhus never be forgiven ? — 'Tis true, 
 My sword has often reek'd in Phrygian blood, 
 And carried havoc thro' your royal kindred ; 
 But you, fair princess, amply have aveng'd 
 Old Priam's vanquished house ; and all the woes 
 I brought on them, fall short of what I suffer. 
 We both have suffered in our turns and now 
 Our common foes shall teach us to unite. 
 
 Andr. Where does the captive not behold a foe ? 
 
 Pyr. Forget the term of hatred, and behold 
 A friend in Pyrrhus. Give me but to hope, 
 I'll free your son, I'll be a father to him ; 
 Myself will teach him to avenge the Trojans. 
 I'll go in person to chastise the Greeks, 
 Both for your wrongs and mine. Inspir'd by you, 
 What would I not atchieve ? Again shall Troy 
 Rise from its ashes : this right arm shall fix 
 Her seat of empire, and your son shall reign. 
 
 Andr. Such dreams of greatness suit not my 
 condition : 
 
24 DISTRE3T MOTHER. 
 
 His hopes of empire perish'd with his father. 
 No ; thou imperial city, ancient Troy, 
 Thou pride of Hsia, founded hy the gods ! 
 Never, Oh, never, must we hope to see 
 Those bulwarks rise, which Hector could not 
 
 guard ! — 
 Sir, all I wish for, is some quiet exile, [you, 
 Where far from Greece remov'd, and far from 
 I may conceal my son, and mourn my husband. 
 Your love creates me envy. Oh, return ! 
 Return to your betrothed Hermione. 
 
 Pyr. Why do you mock me thus ? you know, 
 
 I cannot ; [you ; 
 
 You know my heart is yours ; my soul hangs on 
 You take up every wish : my waking thoughts, 
 And nightly dreams, are all employ'd on you. 
 'Tis true, Hermione was sent to share [hear 
 My throne and bed ; and would with transport 
 The vows which you neglect. 
 
 Andr. She has no Troy, 
 ?>To Hector to lament : she has not lost 
 A husband by your conquests. Such a husband ! 
 (Tormenting thought !) whose death alone has 
 
 made 
 Your sire immortal. Pyrrhus and Achilles, 
 Are both grown great by my calamities. 
 
 Pyr. Madam, 'tis well ! [Crosses to l.h.) 'Tis 
 
 very well ! I find, 
 Your will must be obey'd ; imperious captive, 
 It shall. Henceforth 1 blot you from my mind : 
 You teach me to forget your charms ; to hate 
 
 you: 
 For know, inhuman beauty, 1 have lov'd 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 2l> 
 
 Too well, to treat you with indifference. 
 Think well upon it ; my disorder'd soul 
 Wavers between th' extreme of love and rage : 
 I have been too tame ; I will awake to ven- 
 geance ! 
 The son shall answer for the mother's scorn. 
 The Greeks demand him, nor will I endanger 
 My realms, to pleasure an ungrateful woman. 
 
 Andr. Then he must die ! alas, my son must 
 die! 
 He has no friend, no succour left, beside 
 His mother's tears, and his own innocence. 
 
 Pyr. Go, madam, visit this unhappy son; 
 The sight of him may bend your stubborn heart. 
 And turn to softness your unjust disdain. 
 1 shall once more expect your answer. Go ; 
 And think, while you embrace your captive boy. 
 Think, that his life depends on your resolves. 
 [A Flourish. Exeunt Pyrrhus, and Attendants, l.h, 
 
 Andr. I'll go ; and in the anguish of my heart, 
 Weep o'er my child — If he must die, my life 
 Is wrapt in his ; I shall not long survive. 
 'Tis for his sake that 1 have suffer'd life, 
 Groan'd in captivity, and out-liv'd Hector. 
 Yes, my Astyanax, we'll go together ! 
 Together to the realms of night we'll go ! 
 There to thy ravish'd eyes thy sire I'll show, 
 And point him out among the shades below, 
 
 [Exeunt^ r.h, 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
 
&6 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Palace. 
 Enter Hermione and Cleone, r.h. 
 
 Her. Well, I'll be ruPd, Cleone : I will see 
 him : 
 I have told Pylades that he may bring him ; 
 But trust me, were I left to my own thoughts, 
 I should forbid him yet. 
 
 Cleo. And why forbid him ? 
 Is he not, madam, still the same Orestes ? 
 Orestes, whose return you oft have wish'd ? 
 The man whose sufferings you so late lamented, 
 And often prais'd his constancy and love ? 
 
 Her. That loye, that constancy, so ill re- 
 quited, 
 Upbraids me to myself. I blush to think 
 How I have us'd him, and would shun his pre* 
 
 sence. 
 What will be my confusion, when he sees me 
 Neglected and forsaken, like himself! 
 Will he not say, is this the scornful maid ? 
 The proud Hermione ? that tyrannized 
 In Sparta's court, and triumph'd in her charms? 
 Her insolence at last is well repaid. 
 I cannot bear the thought. (Crosses to r.h.) 
 
 Cleo. You wrong yourself 
 With unbecoming fears. He knows too well 
 Your beauty and your worth. Your lover comes 
 Tp offer insults, but repeat his vows, [not 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 27 
 
 And breathe his ardent passion at jour feet. 
 But, madam, what's your royal father's will ? 
 What orders do your letters bring- from Sparta? 
 
 Her. His orders are, if Pyrrhus still delay 
 The nuptials, and refuse to sacrifice 
 This Trojan boy, I should with speed embark, 
 And with their embassy return to Greece. 
 
 Cleo. What would you more ? Orestes comes 
 in time 
 To save your honour. Pyrrhus cools apace : 
 Prevent his falsehood, and forsake him first. 
 I know you hate him; you have fold me so. 
 
 Her. Hate him ! My injur'd honour bids me 
 hate him. 
 The ungrateful man, to whom I fondly gave 
 My virgin heart ; the man I lov'd so dearly ; 
 The man I doated on ! O, my Cleone ! 
 How is it possible I should not hate him ! 
 
 (Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Cleo. Then give him over, madam, Quit his 
 And with Orestes [court 
 
 Her. No ! I must have time 
 To work up all my rage ! To meditate 
 A parting full of horror ! My revenge 
 Will be but too much quicken'd by the traitor. 
 
 Cleo. Do you then wait new insults, new af- 
 fronts ? [you ! 
 To draw you from your father ! Then to leave 
 In his own court to leave you — for a captive ! 
 If Pyrrhus can provoke you, he has done it. 
 
 Her. Why dost thou heighten my distress ? 
 
 I fear [heart. 
 
 To search out mv own thoughts, and sound rov 
 
28 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Be blind to what thou see'st : Believe me cur'd : 
 Flatter my weakness ; tell me 1 have conquer'd ; 
 Think that my injur'd soul is set against him; 
 And do thy best to make me think so too. 
 
 Cleo. Why would you loiter here, then ? 
 
 Her. Let us fly! {Crosses to r.i-i.) 
 
 Let us begone ! I leave him to his captive : 
 Let him go kneel, and supplicate his slave. 
 Let us begone ! — But what if he repent ? 
 What, if the perjur'd prince again submit, 
 And sue for pardon? What, if he renew 
 His former vows ? — But, Oh, the faithless man ! 
 He slights me ! drives me to extremities !- — 
 
 However, 
 I'll stay, Cleone, to perplex their loves : 
 I'll stay, till, by an open breach of contract, 
 I make him hateful to the Greeks. Already 
 Their vengeance have I drawn upon the son ; 
 The second embassy shall claim the mother : 
 I will redouble all my griefs upon her. 
 
 (Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Cleo. Ah, madam ! whither does your rage 
 transport you ? 
 Andromache, alas ! is innocent. 
 A woman plung'd in sorrow, dead to love, 
 And when she thinks of Pyrrhus, 'tis with hor- 
 ror, [not then 
 
 Her. Would I had done so, too ! — He had 
 Betray'd my easy faith — But I, alas ! 
 Discover' d all the fondness of my soul ; 
 I made no secret of my passion to him, 
 Nor thought it dangerous to be sincere. 
 My eyes, my tongue, my actions spoke my heart. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 29 
 
 Cleo. Well might you speak without reserve, 
 to one 
 Engag'd to you by solemn oaths and treaties. 
 
 Her. His ardour, too, was an excuse to mine : 
 With other eyes he saw me then ! — Cleone, 
 Thou may'st remember, every thing conspir'd 
 To favour him : my father's wrongs aveng'd ; 
 The Greeks triumphant ; fleets of Trojan spoils ; 
 His mighty sire's, his own immortal fame ; 
 His eager love — all, all conspir'd against me ! 
 — But I have done — I'll think no more of 
 
 Pyrrhus. 
 Orestes wants not merit, and he loves me. 
 My gratitude, my honour, both plead for him ; 
 And if I've power o'er my heart, 'tis his. 
 
 {Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Cleo. Madam, he comes — 
 
 Her. Alas ! I did not think 
 He was so near ! I wish I might not see him. 
 
 Enter Orestes, l.h. 
 
 How am I to interpret, sir, this visit ? 
 Is it a compliment of form, or love ? [my fate 
 Ores. Madam, you know my weakness. 'Tis 
 To love unpity'd; to desire to see you ; 
 And still to swear each time shall be the last 
 My passion breaks thro' my repeated oaths, 
 And every time 1 visit you, I'm perjur'd. 
 Even now, 1 find my wound's all bleed afresh ; 
 I blush to own it, but I know no cure. 
 I call the gods to witness, I have try'd 
 Whatever man could do, (but try'd in vainj 
 
30 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 To wear you from my mind. Thro' stormy seas, 
 And savage climes, in a whole year of absence, 
 I courted dangers, and I long'd for death. 
 
 Her. Why will you, prince, indulge this 
 mournful tale ? 
 It ill becomes the ambassador of Greece, 
 To talk of dying, and of love. Remember 
 The kings you represent : shall their revenge 
 Be disappointed by your ill-tim'd passion ? 
 Discharge your embassy — 'tis not Orestes 
 The Greeks desire should die. 
 
 Ores. My embassy 
 Is at an end ; for Pyrrhus has refus'd 
 To give up Hector's son. Some hidden power 
 Protects the boy. 
 
 Her. Faithless, ungrateful man! {Aside.) 
 
 Ores. I now prepare for Greece ; but, e'er I go, 
 Would hear my final doom pronounc'd by you — 
 What do 1 say ? — I do already hear it ! 
 My doom is fix't : I read it in your eyes. 
 
 Her. Will you then still despair ? be still sus- 
 picious ? 
 What have I done? wherein have I been cruel? 
 'Tis true, you find me in the court of Pyrrhus; 
 But 'twas my royal father sent me hither. 
 And who can tell, but I have shar'd your griefs ? 
 Have I ne'er wept in secret? — never wish'd 
 To see Orestes ? — 
 
 Ores. Wish'd to see Orestes ! 
 O,joy ! O, ecstacy ! My soul's intranc'd ! 
 O, charming princess ! O transcendant maid ! 
 My utmost wish ! — Thus, thus let me express 
 My boundless thanks ! — 1 never was unhappy — ■ 
 
DISTREST MOTHER, 31 
 
 Am I Orestes ? — 
 
 Her. You are Orestes : 
 The same unalter'd, generous, faithful lover ; 
 The prince whom 1 esteem, whom I lament, 
 And whom I fain would teach my heart to love. 
 
 Ores. Ay, there it is !-I have but your esteem, 
 While Pyrrhus has your heart. 
 
 Her. Believe me, prince. 
 Were you as Pyrrhus, I should hate you ! 
 
 Ores. No ! — 
 I should be blest ! I should be lov'd as he is ! — 
 Yet all this while I die by your disdain, 
 While he neglects your charms, and courts an- 
 other, [neglected ? 
 
 Her. And who has told you, prince, that I'm 
 Has Pyrrhus said — (Oh, I shall go distracted !) 
 Has Pyrrhus told you so ? or is it you 
 Who think thus meanly of me ? — Sir, perhaps, 
 All do not judge like you ! — (Crosses toh.u.) 
 
 Ores. Madam, go on ! 
 Insult me still ; I'm us'd to bear your scorn. 
 
 Her. Why am I told how Pyrrhus loves or 
 hates ? [rebel ; 
 
 —Go, prince, and arm the Greeks against the 
 Let them lay waste his country, raze his towns, 
 Destroy his fleets, his palaces — himself! — 
 Go, prince, and tell me then how much I love 
 him. ( Crosses to r.h . ) 
 
 Ores. To hasten his destruction, come your- 
 self; 
 And work your royal father to his ruin. 
 
 Her. Meanwhile, he weds Andromache ! 
 
 Ores. Ah, princess ! 
 
32 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 What is't I hear ? 
 
 Her. What infamy for Greece, 
 If he should wed a Phrygian, and a captive ! 
 
 Ores. Is this your hatred, madam ? — 'Tis in 
 vain 
 To hide your passion ; every thing betrays it : 
 Your looks, your speech, your anger, nay your 
 
 silence ; 
 Your love appears in all ; your secret flame 
 Breaks out the more, the more you would con- 
 ceal it. 
 
 Her. Your jealousy perverts my meaning still, 
 And wrests each circumstance to your disquiet ; 
 My very hate is construed into fondness. 
 
 Ores. Impute my fears, if groundless, to my 
 love. [father 
 
 Her. Then hear me, prince. Obedience to a 
 First brought me hither : and the same obedience 
 Detains me here, till Pyrrhus drive me hence, 
 Or my offended father shall recal me. 
 Tell this proud king, that Menelaus scorns 
 To match his daughter with a foe of Greece : 
 Bid him resign Astyanax, or me. 
 If he persists to guard the hostile boy, 
 Hermoine embarks with you for Sparta. 
 
 [Exeunt Hermoine and Cleone, r.h. 
 
 Ores. Then is Orestes blest? My griefs are 
 fled! 
 Fled like a dream ! — Methinks I tread in air ! 
 Pj'rrhus enamour'd of his captive queen, 
 Will thank me, if I take her rival hence — 
 He looks not on the princess with my eyes 
 Surprising happiness ! — unlook'd for joy 
 
 t 
 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 33 
 
 Never let love despair ! — The prize is mine ! 
 Be smooth, ye seas, and ye propitious winds, 
 Breathe from Epirus to the Spartan coasts ! 
 I long to view the sails unfurl'd ! — But, see ! 
 Pyrrhus approaches in a happy hour. 
 
 Enter Pyrrhus, and Phoenix, r.h. 
 
 Pyr. I was in pain to find you, prince. My 
 warm 
 Ungovern'd temper, would not let me weigh 
 The importance of your embassy, and hear 
 You argue for my good- — 1 was to blame. 
 I since have pois'd your reasons : and I thank 
 My good allies : their care deserves my thanks. 
 You have convinc'd me, that the weal of Greece, 
 My father's honour, and my own repose, 
 Demand that Hector's race should be destroy'd, 
 I shall deliver up Astyanax, 
 And you yourself shall bear the victim hence. 
 
 Ores. If you approve it, sir, and are content 
 To spill the blood of a defenceless child, 
 The offended Greeks, no doubt, will be appeas'd, 
 
 Pyr. Closer to strain the knot of our alliance, 
 I have determined to espouse Hermione. 
 You come in time to grace our nuptial rites : 
 In you the kings of Greece will all be present. 
 And you have right to personate her father, 
 As his embassador, and brother's son. 
 Go, prince, renew your visit ; [Crosses to r.h.) 
 
 tell Hermione, 
 To-morrow I receive her from vour hands. 
 4 
 
34 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Ores, (Aside.) O, change of fortune! Oh, un- 
 done Orestes ! [Exit, r.h. 
 
 Pyr. Well, Phoenix ! Am I still a slave to 
 love? 
 What think'st thou now? Am I myself again? 
 
 Phcen. 'Tis as it should be ; this discovers 
 Pyrrhus ; 
 Shews all the hero : now you are yourself — 
 The son, the rival of the great Achilles ! 
 Greece will applaud you, and the world confess 
 Pyrrhus has conquered Troy a second time ! 
 
 Pyr. Nay, Phoenix, now I but begin to tri- 
 I never was a conqueror till now ! [umph ; 
 
 Believe me, a whole host, a war of foes, 
 May sooner be subdu'd than love. Oh, Phcenix ! 
 What ruin have I shunn'd ? The Greeks enrag'd, 
 Hung o'er me like a gathering storm, and soon 
 Had burst in thunder on my head, while I 
 Abandon'd duty, empire, honour, all, 
 To please a thankless woman ! — One kind look 
 Had quite undone me ! 
 
 Phcen. O, my royal master ! 
 The Gods, in favour to you, made her cruel. 
 
 Pyr. Thou saw'st with how much scorn she 
 treated me ! 
 W T hen I permitted her to see her son, 
 I hop'd it might have work'd her to my wishes, 
 I went to see the mournful interview, 
 And found her bath'd in tears, and lost in passion. 
 W 7 ild with distress, a thousand times she cail'd 
 On Hectors name : and when I spoke in comfort. 
 And promised my protection to her son, 
 She kissM the boy, and cail'd again on Hector : 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 35 
 
 Does she then think that I preserve the boy, 
 To soothe and keep alive her flame for Hector? 
 
 {Crosses to l.h.) 
 Pham. No doubt, she does ; and thinks you 
 favoured in it ; 
 But let her go, for an ungrateful woman ! 
 Pyr. I know the thoughts of her proud 
 stubborn heart. 
 Vain of her charms, and insolent in beauty, 
 She mocks my rage ; and when it threatens 
 
 loudest, 
 
 Expects 'twill soon be humbled into love. 
 But we shall change our parts, and she shall find 
 I can be deaf like her, and steel my heart. 
 She is Hector's widow ; I, Achilles' son ! *^~ — r 
 Pyrrhus is born to hate Andromache. 
 
 (Crosses to l.h.) 
 Phcen. My royal master, talk of her no more ; 
 I do not like this anger. Your Hermione 
 Should now engross your thoughts. 'fis time to 
 
 see her; 
 And not rely upon a rival's care : 
 It may be dangerous. 
 
 Pyr. But tell me, Phoenix ; 
 Dost thou not think, the proud Andromache 
 Will be enrag'd, when I shall wed the princess ? 
 Phozn. Why does Andromache still haunt your 
 thoughts ? 
 
 What is't to you, be she enrag'd or pleas'd ? 
 Let her name perish — think of her no more. 
 Pyr. No, Phoenix ! — 1 have been too gentle 
 with her, [ment : 
 
 I have check'd my wrath, and stifled my resent- 
 
> 
 
 36 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 She knows not jet to what degree I hate her. 
 Let us return — i'il brave her to her face : 
 I'll give my anger its free course against her. 
 Thou shalt see, Phoenix, how I'll break her 
 pride ! {Crosses to r.h.) 
 
 Phozn. Oh, go not, sir ! — There's ruin in her 
 eyes ! [ ne r, 
 
 You do not know your strength ; you'll fall before 
 Adore her beauty, and revive her scorn. 
 
 Pyr. That were, indeed, a most unmanly 
 weakness ! 
 Thou dost not know me, Phoenix. 
 
 Phozn, Ah, ray prince ! 
 You are still struggling in the toils of love. 
 Pyr, Canst thou then think, I love this woman 
 still ? 
 One who repays my passion with disdain ! 
 A stranger, captive, friendless, and forlorn ; 
 She and her darling son within my power ; 
 Her life a forfeit to the Greeks : yet I 
 Preserve her son ; would take her to my throne ; 
 Would tight her battles, and avenge her wrongs ; 
 And all this while she treats me as her foe ! 
 Phozn. You have it in your power to be 
 
 reveng'd. 
 Pyr. Yes — and I'll shew my power ! I'll give 
 her cause 
 *To hate me ! her Astyanax shall die — 
 What tears will then be shed ! How will she then 
 In bitterness of heart reproach my name ! 
 Then, to complete her woes, will I espouse 
 Hermione — "Twill stab her to the heart ! 
 
 {Crosses to l.h.) 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 37 
 
 Pham. Alas, you threaten like a lover still ! 
 
 Pyr. Phoenix, excuse this struggle of my soul ; 
 'Tis the last effort of expiring love. 
 
 Phozn. Then hasten, sir, to see the Spartan 
 princess, 
 And turn the bent of your desires on her. 
 
 Pyr. Oh ! His a heavy task to conquer love, 
 And wean the soul from her accustom'd fondness. 
 But, come — A long farewell to Hector's widow. 
 r f is with a secret pleasure I look back, 
 And see the many dangers I have passed. 
 The merchant, thus, in dreadful tempests tost, 
 Thrown by the waves on some unlook'd-for coast, 
 Oft turns, and sees, with a delighted eye, 
 'Midst rocks and shelves, the broken billows fly ! 
 And while the outrageous winds the deep deform, 
 Smiles on the tumult, and enjoys the storm. 
 
 [Exeunt^ l.h. 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — Interior of the Palace, with a view of 
 the Sea. 
 
 Enter Orestes and Pylades, l.h. 
 
 Pyl. For heaven's sake, sir, compose your 
 ruffled mind, 
 And moderate your rage ! 
 4 * 
 
38 D1STREST MOTHER. 
 
 Ores. No, Pylades ! 
 This is no time for counsel. — I am deaf. 
 Talk not of reason ! I have been too patient. 
 Life is not worth my care. My soul grows 
 
 desperate. 
 I'll bear her off, or perish in the attempt. 
 I'll force her from his arms — By Heaven, I will ! 
 
 Pyl. Well, 'tis agreed, my friend — We'll force 
 her hence, 
 But still consider, we are in Epirus. 
 The court, the guards, Hermione herself, 
 The very air we breathe, belongs to Pyrrhus. 
 Good Gods ! what tempted you to seek her here ? 
 
 Ores: Lost to myself, I knew not what 1 did ! 
 My purposes were wild. Perhaps I came 
 To menace Pyrrhus, and upbraid the woman. 
 
 Pyl. This violence of temper may prove fatal. 
 
 Ores. It must be more than man to bear these 
 These outrages of fate, with temper. [shocks, 
 He tells me, that he weds Hermione, 
 And will to-morrow take her from my hand ! — 
 My hand shall sooner tear the tyrant's heart. — 
 
 (Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Pyl. Your passion blinds you, sir ; he's not to 
 blame. 
 Could you but look into the soul of Pyrrhus, 
 Perhaps you'll find it tortur'd like your own. 
 
 Ores. No, Pylades ! — 'tis all design. — His pride, 
 To triumph over me, has chang'd his love. 
 The fair Hermione, before I came, 
 In all her bloom of beauty, was neglected. 
 Ah, cruel Gods ! I thought her all my own ! 
 She was consenting to return to Sparta : 
 
DI3TREST MOTHER. 39 
 
 Her heart, divided betwixt rage and love, 
 Was on the wing" to take its leave of Pyrrhus. 
 She heard my sighs, she pitied my complaints, 
 She prais'd my constancy — The least indifference 
 From this proud king, had made Orestes happy ! 
 
 Pyl. So your fond heart believes ! — 
 Take my advice — Think not to force her hence ; 
 But fly yourself from her destructive charms. 
 Her soul is link'd to Pyrrhus — 
 
 Ores. Talk no more ! 
 I cannot bear the thought ! She must be mine ! 
 Did Pyrrhus carry thunder in his hand, 
 I'd stand the bolt, and challenge all his fury, 
 Ere Pd resign Hermione — ( Crosses foR.H.)By force 
 I'll snatch her hence, and bear her to my ships ; 
 Have we forgot her mother Helen's rape ? 
 
 Pyl. Will then, Orestes turn a ravisher, 
 And blot his embassy ? 
 
 Ores. O, Pylades ! v 
 
 My grief weighs heavy on me — 'twill distract me ! 
 The Gods have set me as their mark, to empty 
 Their quivers on me. — Leave me to myself. 
 Mine be the danger, mine the enterprize. ^> 
 All I request of thee, is to return, ^ 
 
 And in my place convey Astyanax 
 (As Pyrrhus has consented^ into Greece. 
 Go, Pvlades — 
 
 Pyl. Lead on, my friend, lead on ! 
 Let us bear off Hermione ! No toil, 
 No danger can deter a friend — Lead on ! 
 Draw up the Greeks, summon your num'rous 
 
 train ; 
 The ships are ready, and the winds is fair : 
 
"^-^ 
 
 40 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 There eastward lies the sea ; the rolling waves 
 Break on those palace stairs. I know each pass, 
 Each avenue and outlet of the court ; 
 This very night we'll carry her on board. 
 
 Ores Thou art too good! — I trespass on thy 
 friendship : 
 But, Oh ! excuse a wretch, whom no man pities, 
 Except thyself: one, just about to lose 
 The treasure of his soul : 
 When will my friendship be of use to thee ? 
 
 Pyl. i he question is unkind. — But now, 
 remember [thoughts ; 
 
 To keep your counsels close, and hide your 
 Let not Hermione suspect — No more — 
 I see her coming, sir — 
 
 Ores. Away, my friend ; 
 I am advis'd ; my all depends upon it. 
 
 [Exit PyladeS) l.h. 
 
 Enter Hermione, and Cleone, r.h. 
 
 Ores. Madam, your orders are obey'd ; I have 
 seen 
 Pyrrhus, my rival ; and have gain'd him for you. 
 The king resolves to wed you. 
 
 Her. So I am told \ 
 And, farther,, I am inform'd that you, Orestes, 
 Are to dispose me for the intended marriage. 
 
 Ores. And are you, madam, willing to comply ? 
 
 Her. What can 1 do, alas ! my faith is promis'd : 
 Can I refuse what is not mine to give ? 
 A princess is not at her choice to love ; 
 All we have left us is a blind obedience ; 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 4 1 
 
 And yet you see how far I had comply'd 
 And made my duty yield to your entreaties. 
 Ores. Ah, cruel maid ! you knew — but 1 have 
 done, 
 All have a right to please themselves in love. 
 I blame you not. 'Tis true, I hop'd — but you 
 Are mistress of your heart, and Pm content. 
 'Tis fortune is my enemy, not you. 
 But, madam, I shall spare you farther pain 
 On this uneasy theme, and take my leave. 
 
 [Exi^ L.H. 
 Her. Cleone, couldst thou think- he'd be so 
 
 calm ? 
 Cleo. Madam his silent grief sits heavy on him. 
 He is to be pitied. His too eager love 
 Has made him busy to his own destruction. 
 His threats have wrought this change of mind 
 in Pyrrhus. 
 Her. Dost thou think Pyrrhus capable of fear ? 
 Whom should the intrepid Pyrrhus fear? The 
 
 Greeks ? 
 Did he not lead their harrass'd troops to conquest, 
 When they despair'd, when they retir'd from 
 
 Troy, 
 And sought for shelter in their burning fleets ? 
 Did he not then supply his father's place ? 
 No, my Cleone, he is above constraint ; 
 He acts unforc'd ; and where he weds, he loves. 
 
 {Crosses to r.h.) 
 Cleo, Oh, that Orestes had remain'd in Greece I 
 I fear to-morrow will prove fatal to him. 
 
 Her. Wilt thou discourse of nothing but 
 Orestes ? 
 
i 
 
 42 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Pyrrhus is mine again ! — Is mine for ever ! 
 Oh, my Cleone, I am wild with joy ! 
 Pyrrhus, the boid, the brave, the godlike Pyrrhus ! 
 — Oh, 1 could tell thee numberless exploits, 
 And tire thee with his battles. — Oh, Cleone — 
 
 [Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Cleo. Madam, conceal your joy — I see 
 Andromache — [you. 
 
 She weeps, and comes to speak her sorrows to 
 
 Her. I would indulge the gladness of my heart ! 
 Let us retire — Her grief is out of season. 
 
 Enter Andromache, and Cephisa, l.h. 
 
 Andr. Ah, madam! whither, whither do you fly? 
 Where can your eyes behold a sight more 
 
 pleasing 
 Than Hector's widow, suppliant and in tears ? 
 I come not an alarm'd, a jealous foe, 
 To envy you the heart your charms have won — 
 The only man I sought to please, is gone ; 
 Kill'd in my sight, by an inhuman hand. 
 Hector first taught me love ; which my fond 
 
 heart 
 Shall ever cherish, till we meet in death. 
 But, Oh, I have a son ! — And you, one day. 
 Will be no stranger to a mother's fondness : 
 But heaven forbid that you should ever know 
 A mother's sorrow for an only son. 
 Her joy, her bliss, her last surviving comfort ! ^ 
 When every hour she trembles for his life ! 
 Your power o'er Pyrrhus may relieve my fears 
 Alas, what danger is there in a child, 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 43 
 
 Sav'd from the wreck of a whole ruin'd empire ? 
 Let me go hide him in some desert isle : 
 You may rely upon my tender care 
 To keep him far from perils of ambition : 
 All he can learn of me will be to weep ! 
 
 Her. Madam, 'tis easy to conceive your grief; 
 But, it would ill become me to solicit 
 In contradiction to my father's will : 
 'Tis he who urges to destroy your son. 
 Madam, if Pyrrhus must be wrought to pity, 
 No woman does it better than yourself. 
 If you gain him, I shall comply, of course. 
 
 [Exeunt^ Hermione and Cleone, r.h. 
 
 Andr. Didst thou not mind with what disdain 
 she spoke ? 
 Youth and prosperity have made her vain ; 
 She has not seen the fickle turns of life. > ^— 
 
 Ceph. Madam, were I as you, I'd take her 
 counsel ; 
 I'd speak my own distress : one look from you 
 Will vanquish Pyrrhus, and confound the Greeks- 
 See, where he comes — Lay hold on this occasion* 
 
 Enter Pyrrhus, and Phoenix, l.h. 
 
 Pyr. Where is the princess ? — Did you not 
 
 inform me 
 Hermione was here ? (To PJwenix.) 
 Phoen. 1 thought so. sir. 
 Andr. Thou seest what mighty power my eyes 
 
 have on him! (To Cephisa.) 
 Pyr. What says she, Phoenix ? 
 Andr. 1 have no hope left ! 
 
44 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Phozn. Let us be gone — Hermione expectsyou. 
 
 Ceph. For heaven's sake, madam, break this 
 sullen silence. 
 
 Andr. My child's already promis'd ! — 
 
 Ceph. But not given. 
 
 Andr, No ! no ! — my tears are vain ! — His 
 doom is fixed ! 
 
 Pyr. See if she deigns to cast one look upon us ! 
 Proud woman ! 
 
 Andr. I provoke him by my presence. 
 Let us retire. 
 
 Pyr. Come, let us satisfy 
 The Greeks, and give them up this Phrygian boy, 
 
 Andr. Ah, recal those words — What have 
 you said ? 
 If you give up my son, Oh, give up me ! — 
 You, who so many times have sworn me friend- 
 ship : 
 Oh, Heavens! — will you not look with pity on me? 
 Is there no hope ? Is there no room for pardon ? 
 
 Pyr. Phoenix will answer you — My word is 
 past (Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Andr. You, who would brave so many dan- 
 gers for me. 
 
 Pyr I was your lover then — I now am free. 
 To favour you, I might have spar'd his life ; 
 But you would ne'er vouchsafe to ask it of me. 
 Now 'tis too late. 
 
 Andr. Oh, sir, excuse 
 The pride of royal blood, that checks my soul^ 
 And knows not how to be importunate. 
 You know, alas ! I was not born to kneel, 
 To sue for pity, and to own a master. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 45 
 
 Pyr. No ! in your heart you curse me ! you 
 disdain 
 My generous flame, and scorn to be oblig'd ! 
 But I shall leave you to your great resentments. 
 Let us go, Phoenix, and appease the Greeks. 
 
 Jndr.Theu let me die! and let me go to Hector! 
 
 Ceph. But, madam 
 
 Andr. What can I do more ? The tyrant 
 Sees my distraction, and insults my tears. 
 
 (To Ceph) 
 — Behold, how low you have reduc'd a queen ! 
 
 (Kneels.) 
 These eyes have seen my country laid in ashes, 
 My kindred fall in war, my father slain, 
 My husband dragg'd in his own blood, my son 
 Condemned to bondage, and myself a slave ; 
 Yet, in the midst of these unheard-of woes, 
 5 Twas some relief to find myself your captive ; 
 And that my son, deriv'd from ancient kings. 
 Since he must serve, had Pyrrhusfor his master, 
 When Priam kneePd, the great Achilles wept : 
 I hop'd I should not find his son less noble : 
 I thought the brave were still the most compas- 
 sionate. 
 Oh, do not, sir, divide me from my child ! — 
 If he must die 
 
 Pyr. Phoenix, withdraw a while. 
 
 [Exit Phoenix, l.h. 
 Rise, madam — You may yet preserve your son. 
 I find, whenever I provoke your tears, 
 I furnish you with arms against myself. 
 I thought my hatred fixt before I saw you. 
 Oh, turn your eyes upon me while I speak ! 
 5 
 
 ; 
 
■I 
 
 46 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 And see if you discover in my looks 
 An angry judge, or an obdurate foe. 
 f^ Why will you force me to desert your cause ? 
 In your son's name, 1 beg we may be friends ; 
 
 Think, Oh, think, 
 
 'Tis the last time, you both may yet be happy ! 
 I know the ties I break, the foes I arm : 
 1 wrong Hermione ; I send her hence ; 
 And with her diadem 1 bind your brows. 
 Consider well ; for 'tis of moment to you ! 
 Choose to be wretched, madam, or a queen. 
 I leave you to your thoughts. When I return, 
 Well to the temple — There you'll find your son; 
 And there be crown'd, or give him up for ever. 
 
 [Exit L.H. 
 
 Ceph. I told you, madam,that in spite of Greece, 
 You would o'er-rule the malice of your fortune. 
 
 Andr. Alas, Cephisa, what have I obtain'd ? 
 Only a poor short respite for my son. 
 
 Ceph. You have enough approv'd your faith 
 to Hector. 
 To be reluctant still would be a crime. 
 He would himself persuade you to comply. 
 
 Andr. How ! — wouldst thou give me Pyrrhus 
 for a husband ? 
 
 Ceph. Think you 'twill please the ghost of 
 your dead husband, 
 That you should sacrifice his son ? Consider, 
 Pyrrhus once more invites you to a throne ; 
 Turns all his power against the foes of Troy, 
 Remembers not Achilles was his father ; 
 Retracts his conquest, and forgets his hatred. 
 
 Andr. But how can I forget it ? — how can I 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 47 
 
 Forget my Hector, treated with dishonour; 
 Depriv'd of funeral rites, and vilely dragg'd, 
 A bloody corpse, about the walls of Troy ? 
 Can I forget the good old king his father, 
 Slain in my presence — at the altar slain ? 
 Which vainly, for protection, he embrac'd. 
 Hast thou forgot that dreadful night, Cephisa, 
 When a whole people fell ? Methinks I see 
 Pyrrhus enrag'd and, breathing vengeance, enter 
 Amidst the glare of burning palaces : 
 I see him hew his passage thro' my brothers, 
 And, bath'd in blood, lay all my kindred waste. 
 Think, in this scene of horror, what I suffer'd ! 
 This is the courtship I receiv'd from Pyrrhus ; 
 And this the husband thou wouldst give me ! No, 
 We both will perish first ! I'll ne'er consent. 
 
 (Crosses to r.h.) 
 
 Ceph. Since you resolve Astyanax shall die, 
 Haste to the temple, bid your son farewell. 
 Why do you tremble, madam ? 
 
 Andr. O, Cephisa ! 
 Thou hast awaken'd all the mother in me. 
 How can I bid farewell to the dear child, 
 The pledge, the image of my much-lov'd lord ! 
 But, Oh, while I deliberate, he dies. 
 No, no, thou must not die, while I can save thee : 
 
 (Crosses to l.h.) 
 Oh ! let me find out Pyrrhus—- Oh, Cephisa ! 
 Do you go find him. 
 
 Ceph. What must I say to him? 
 
 Andr. Tell him I love my son to such excess — 
 But dost thou think he means the child shall die ? 
 Can love rejected turn to so much rage ? 
 
48 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Ceph. Madam, he'll soon be here : resolve on 
 something. 
 
 Andr. Well then, assure him — 
 
 Ceph. Madam, of your love? 
 
 Andr. A las,thou know'st that is not in my power, 
 O, my dead lord ! Oh, Priam's royal house ! 
 Oh, my Astyanax ! at what a price 
 Thy mother buys thee ! — Let us go. 
 
 Ceph. But whither ? 
 And what does your unsettled heart resolve ? 
 
 Andr. Come, my Cephisa, let us go together, 
 
 [Crosses to r.h.) 
 To the sad monument which I have rais'd 
 To Hector's shade ; where, in their sacred urn, 
 The ashes of my hero lie inclos'd, 
 The dear remains which I have sav'd from Troy; 
 There let me weep, there summon to my aid, 
 With pious rite, my Hector's awful shade ; 
 Let him be witness to my doubts, my fears ! 
 My agonizing heart, my flowing tears : 
 Oh ! may he rise in pity from his tomb, 
 And fix his wretched son's uncertain doom. 
 
 [Exeunt i ft. it, 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 49 
 
 ACT IV. 
 SCENE I— The Palace. 
 
 Enter Hermione, and Cleone, r.h. 
 
 Cleo. This unexpected silence, this reserve, 
 This outward calm, this settled frame of mind, 
 After such wrongs and insults, much surprize me ! 
 You, who before could not command your rage, 
 When Pyrrhus look'd but kindly on his captive ; 
 How can you bear unmov'd, that he should wed 
 
 her, 
 And seat her on a throne which you should fill ? 
 I fear this dreadful stillness in your soul — 
 'Twere better, madam — 
 
 Her. Have you call'd Orestes? 
 
 Cleo. Madam, I have ; his love is too impatient 
 Not to obey with speed the welcome summons. 
 His love-sick heart o'erlooks his unkind usage : 
 His ardour's still the same— Madam, he's here. 
 
 Enter Orestes, l.h. 
 
 Ores. Ah, madam is it true ? does then Orestes 
 At length attend you by your own commands ? 
 What can I do— 
 
 Her. Orestes, do you love me ? 
 Ores. What means that question, princess? Do 
 I love you ? 
 My oaths, my perjuries, my hopes, my fears, 
 My farewell, my return, all speak my love. 
 5* 
 
50 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Her. Avenge my wrongs, and I'll believe 
 them all. 
 
 Ores. It shall be done — My soul has catch'd 
 th' alarm, 
 We'll spirit up the Greeks — I'll lead them on: 
 Your cause shall animate our fleets and armies. 
 Let us return ; let us not lose a moment, 
 But urge the fate of this devoted land : 
 Let us depart. 
 
 Her. No, prince, let us stay here ! 
 I will have vengeance here — I will not carry 
 This load of infamy to Greece, nor trust 
 The chance of war to vindicate my wrongs. 
 Ere I depart, I'll make Epirus mourn. 
 If you avenge me, let it be this instant ; 
 My rage brooks no delay ; haste to the temple, 
 Haste, prince, and sacrifice him. 
 
 Ores. Whom ? 
 
 Her. Why, Pyrrhus. 
 
 Ores. Pyrrhus ? Did you say Pyrrhus ? 
 
 Her. You demur. — 
 Oh, fly ? be gone ! give me not time to think — 
 Talk not of laws — he tramples on all laws — 
 Let me not hear him justify'd — away ! 
 
 Ores. You cannot think I'll justify my rival. 
 Madam, your love has made him criminal. 
 You shall have vengeance ; I'll have vengeance 
 
 too; 
 But let our hatred be profest and open ; 
 Let us alarm all Greece, denounce a war ; 
 Let us attack him in his strength, and hunt him 
 down 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 51 
 
 By conquest : should I turn base assassin, 
 "Twould sully all the kings 1 represent. 
 
 Her. Have not I been dishonour'd ? set at 
 
 nought ? 
 Expos'd to public scorn ? — And will you suffer 
 The tyrant, who dares use me thus, to live? 
 Know, prince, I hate him more than once I lov'd 
 
 him. 
 The Gods alone can tell how once I lov'd him ; 
 Yes, the false, perjur'd man. I once did love 
 
 him; 
 And, spite of all his crimes and broken vows, 
 If he should live, I may relapse — who knows 
 But 1 to-morrow may forgive his wrongs ? 
 Ores. First let me tear him piece-meal — he 
 
 shall die. 
 But madam, give me leisure to contrive 
 The place, the time, the manner of his death ; 
 Yet, I'm a stranger in the court of Pyrrhus ; 
 Scarce have I set my foot within Epirus, 
 When you enjoin me to destroy the prince. 
 It shall be done this very night. 
 
 Her. But now, 
 This very hour, he weds, Andromache ; 
 The temple shines with pomp ; the golden 
 
 throne 
 Is now prepar'd ; the joyful rites begin ; 
 My shame is public — Oh, be speedy, prince ! 
 My wrath's impatient — Pyrrhus lives too long ! 
 Intent on love, and heedless of his person, 
 He covers with his guards the Trojan boy. 
 Now is the time ; assemble all your Greeks ; 
 Mine shall assist them ! let their fury loose ; 
 
L 
 
 52 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Already they regard him as a foe. 
 Begone, Orestes — kill the faithless tyrant; 
 My love shall recompence the glorious deed. 
 Qres. Consider, madam — 
 Her. You but mock my rage ! 
 Think you to merit by your idle sighs, 
 And not attest your love by one brave action ? 
 Go (Crosses to l.h.) with your boasted con- 
 stancy; and leave 
 Hermione to execute her own revenge. 
 I blush to think how my too easy faith 
 Has twice been baffled in one shameful hour ! 
 
 (Crosses to r.h.) 
 Ores. Hear me but speak J— you know Til die 
 
 to serve you ! 
 Her, I'll go myself: I'll stab him at the altar ; 
 Then drive the poinard, reeking with his blood, 
 Thro' my own heart. In death we shall unite. 
 Better to die with him, than live with you ! 
 Ores. That were to make him blest, and me 
 more wretched. (Crosses to l.h.) 
 Madam he dies by me— Have you a foe, 
 And shall I let him live ? My rival, too ? 
 Ere yon meridian sun declines, he dies ; 
 And you shall say that I deserve your love. 
 Her. Go, prince ; strike home ! and leave the 
 rest to me ; 
 Let all your ships stand ready for our flight. 
 
 [Exit Orestes, l.h. 
 Cleo. Madam, you'll perish in this bold at- 
 tempt, [perish. 
 Her. Give me my vengeance, I'm content to 
 I was to blaqae to trust it with another ; 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 53 
 
 In my own hands it had been more secure. 
 Orestes hates not Pyrrhus as I hate him. 
 
 (Crosses to r.h.) 
 Oh, would Orestes, when he gives the blow, 
 Tell him he dies my victim ! Haste Cleone : 
 Charge him to say, Hermione's resentment, 
 Not those of Greece, have sentenced him to 
 
 death. v 
 
 Haste, my Cleone ! My revenge is lost, \\ 
 If Pyrrhus knows not that he dies by me ! \ 
 
 Cleo. I shall obey your orders — But I see 
 The king approach — Who could expect him 
 here ? 
 Her. O fly ! Cleone, fly ! and bid Orestes 
 Not to proceed a step before I see him. 
 
 [Exit Cleone^ l.h. 
 
 Enter Pyrrhus, r.h. 
 
 Pyr. Madam, I ought to shun an injured prin- 
 cess : 
 Your distant looks reproach me : and I come 
 Not to defend, but to avow ray guiit. 
 Pyrrhus will ne'er approve his own injustice, 
 Nor form excuses while his heart condemns 
 
 him. 
 Discharge your anger on this perjur'd man ! 
 For I abhor my crime ! and should be pleas'd 
 To hear you speak your wrongs aloud. No 
 
 terms, 
 No bitterness of wrath, nor keen reproach, 
 Will equal half the upbraidings of my heart. 
 
54 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Her. I find, sir, you can be sincere ; you 
 scorn 
 To act your crimes with fear, like other men. 
 A hero should be bold ; above all laws ; 
 Be bravely false, and laugh at solemn ties. 
 To be perfidious shows a daring mind ! 
 And you have nobly triumph'd o'er a maid ! 
 To court me — to reject me — to return — 
 Then to forsake me for a Phrygian slave — 
 To lay proud Troy in ashes — then to raise 
 The son of Hector, and renounce the Greeks, 
 Are actions worthy the great soul of Pyrrhus ! 
 
 [Crosses to r.h.) 
 Pyr. Madam, go on : Give your resentment 
 birth, 
 And pour forth all your indignation on me. 
 Her. 'Twould please your queen, should I 
 upbraid your falsehood ; 
 Call you perfidious, traitor, all the names 
 That injur'd virgins lavish on your sex; 
 I should o'erflow with tears, and die with grief, 
 And furnish out a tale to soothe her pride ; 
 But, sir, I would not over-charge her joys. 
 If you would charm Andromache, recount 
 Your bloody battles, your exploits, your slaugh- 
 ters, 
 Your great achievements in her father's palace. 
 She needs must love the man, who fought so 
 
 bravely, 
 And in her sight slew half her royal kindred ! 
 
 ( Crosses to l.h.) 
 Pyr. With horror I look back on my past 
 deeds ! 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 55 
 
 I punish'd Helen's wrongs too far ; I shed 
 Too much of blood. But, madam, Helen's 
 
 daughter 
 Should not object those ills the mother caus'd. 
 However, I am pleas'd to find you hate me — 
 I was too forward to accuse myself — 
 The man who ne'er was lov'd can ne'er be false, 
 Obedience to a father brought you hither ; 
 And I stood bound by promise to receive you : 
 But our desires were different ways inclin'd ; 
 And you, I own, were not oblig'd to love me. 
 Her. Have I not lov'd you, then ! perfidious 
 man ! 
 
 For you 1 slighted all the Grecian princes ; 
 Forsook my father's house; conceal'd my wrongs, 
 When most provok'd ; would not return to 
 
 Sparta, . 
 
 In hopes that time might fix your wavering heart. 
 I lov'd you when inconstant ; and even now, 
 Inhuman king ! that you pronounce my death, 
 My heart still doubts, if I should love, or hate 
 
 you — » 
 
 But, Oh, since you resolve to wed another, 
 Defer your cruel purpose till to-morrow, 
 That I may not be here to grace her triumph ! 
 This is the last request I e'er shall make you — 
 See, if the barbarous prince vouchsafes an an- 
 swer ! 
 
 Go, then, to the lov'd Phrygian ; hence ! begone ! 
 And bear to her those vows that once were 
 
 mine : 
 Go, in defiance to the avenging Gods ! 
 
 {Crosses to r.h.) 
 
56 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Begone ! the priest expects you at the altar — 
 But, tyrant, have a care I come not thither, 
 
 [Exit, R.H* 
 
 Enter Phoenix, r.h. 
 
 /■ 
 
 Phozn. Sir did you mind her threats ? your 
 / life's in danger : 
 
 There is no trifling with a woman's rage. 
 The Greeks that swarm about the court, all 
 ^ hate you ; 
 
 Will treat you as their country's enemy, 
 And join in her revenge : besides, Orestes 
 Still loves her to distraction. Sir, I beg — 
 Pyr. How, Phoenix, should I fear a woman's 
 threats ? 
 A nobler passion takes up all my thoughts ; 
 I must prepare to meet Andromache. 
 Do thou place all my guards about her son : 
 If he be safe, Pyrrhus is free from fear. 
 
 [Exit) L.H. 
 Phozn. Oh, Pyrrhus ! Oh, what pity 'tis, the 
 Gods, 
 Who fill'd thy soul with every kingly virtue, 
 Form'd thee for empire and consummate great- 
 ness, 
 Should leave thee so expos'd to wild desires, 
 That hurry thee beyond the bounds of reason ! 
 But see the queen, {Flourish.) 
 Magnificent in royal pride, appears. 
 I must obey, and guard her son from danger. 
 
 [Exit) L.H. 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 57 
 
 Enter Andromache, and Cepiiisa, r.h. 
 
 Ceph. Madam, once more you look and move 
 a queen, 
 Your sorrows are dispers'd, your charms revive, 
 And every faded beauty blooms anew. 
 
 Andr. Yet all is not as I could wish, Ce- 
 phisa. [son ; 
 
 Ceph. You see the king is watchful o'er your 
 Decks him with princely robes, with guards 
 surrounds him. 00*** 
 
 Astyanax begins to reign already. 
 Andr. Pyrrhus is nobly minded ; and I fain 
 Would live to thank him for Astyanax : 
 'Tis a vain thought. — However, since my child 
 Has such a friend ; I ought not to repine. 
 
 Ceph. For Heaven's sake, madam, let me know 
 your griefs. 
 If you distrust my faith — 
 
 Andr. That were to wrong thee. 
 Oh, my Cephisa ! This gay, borrowed air, 
 This blaze of jewels, and this bridal dress, 
 Are but mock trappings to conceal my woe : 
 My heart still mourns ; I still am Hector's 
 
 widow. *«**■"" 
 
 Ceph. Will you then break the promise giv'n 
 to Pyrrhus, 
 Blow up his rage again, and blast your hopes ? 
 Andr. I thought, Cephisa, thou hadst known 
 thy mistress. 
 Could'st thou believe I would be false to Hector ? 
 Fall off from such a husband ! Break his rest, 
 
58 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 And call him to this hated light again, 
 To see Andromache in Pyrrhus' arms ! 
 
 Ceph. 1 cannot guess what drift your thoughts- 
 pursue : 
 But Oh, 1 fear there's something dreadful in it ! 
 Must then Astyanax be doom'd to die, 
 And you to linger out a life in bondage ? 
 
 Andr. Know then the secret purpose of my 
 soul : 
 Andromache will not be false to Pyrrhus, 
 Nor violate her sacred love to Hector. 
 This hour I'll meet the king; the holy priest 
 Shall join us, and confirm our mutual vows. 
 This will secure a father to my child : 
 That done, 1 have no farther use for life : 
 This pointed dagger, this determin'd hand, 
 Shall save my virtue, and conclude my woes. 
 Cephisa, thou wilt lend a hand to close thy 
 mistress' eyes. [you ! 
 
 Ceph. Oh, never think that I will stay behind 
 
 Andr. No, my Cephisa ; I must have thee live. 
 I must commit to thy faithful hands 
 All that is dear and precious to my soul ; 
 Live and supply my absence to my child. 
 All that remains of Troy ; a future progeny 
 Of heroes, and a distant line of kings, 
 In him, is all intrusted to thy care. 
 
 Ceph. Oh for a spirit to support my grief! 
 Is there aught more, before you go for ever? 
 
 Andr. Oh, my Cephisa ! my swoln heart is full ! 
 I have a thousand farewells to my son — 
 But tears break in ! — Grief interrupts my 
 speech ! — 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 59 
 
 My soul o'erflows in fondness ! — Let him know 
 1 died to save him — and would die again. 
 Season his mind with early hints of glory ; 
 Make him acquainted with his ancestors ; 
 Trace out their shining story in his thoughts : 
 Dwell on the exploits of his immortal father ; 
 And sometimes let him hear his mothers name. 
 He must be taught to stifle his resentments, 
 And sacrifice his vengeance to his safety. 
 Should he prove headstrong, rash, or unadvis'd, 
 He then will frustrate all his mother's virtue, 
 Provoke his fate, and 1 shall die in vain. 
 
 Ceph. Alas, I fear I never shall outlive you ! 
 
 Andr. No more — thy tears, Cephisa, will be- 
 tray me ; 
 Assume a cheerful look — But still remember — 
 
 ( Flourish within. ) 
 Hark how the trumpet, with its sprightly notes, 
 Proclaims tlr appointed hour, and calls us hence : 
 Hector, I come, once more a queen, to join thee ! 
 Thus the gay victim, with fresh garlands 
 
 crown'd, 
 Pleased with the sacred fife's enlivening sound, 
 Thro' gazing crowds, in solemn state proceeds ; 
 And. drest in fatal pomp, magnificently bleeds. 
 
 [Exeunt z l.h 
 
 F.XD OF ACT IV. 
 
to DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 ACT V. 
 SCENE I— A Palace. 
 Enter Hermione, r.h. 
 
 What have I done ? Where am 1 ? Where is 
 Pyrrhus ? [done ! 
 
 Ye Gods ! what mean these horrors ? — I'm un- 
 
 My soul is on the rack ! — I cannot bear it ! — 
 
 Why do 1 wander, like some guilty ghost ? 
 
 What brought me to this place ? What keeps me 
 here ? 
 
 The court of Pyrrhus has no room for me ! 
 
 Do I still doubt, if 1 should love or hate him ? 
 
 Hard-hearted man ! how unconcerned he left me ! 
 
 Did he once sigh ? bestow one pitying look ? 
 
 Once shed a tear ? or speak one soft, kind word ? 
 
 Did he so much as feign one moment's sorrow. 
 
 To calm my grief, and mitigate his falsehood ?— 
 
 Why am I still thus anxious for his life ? 
 
 Why do I start at his impending fate ? 
 
 Shall he then live ? Shall the base traitor live 
 
 To laugh at my distress? No, let him perish I 
 
 Be quick, Orestes! — Execute my orders! 
 
 Alas ! my orders ! Oh, preposterous guilt ! 
 
 Can I decree the death of him I love ? 
 
 Was it for this my soul delighted in him ? 
 
 Was it for this I left my father's court? 
 
 Have I then cross'd so many realms and seas 
 
 To murder Pyrrhus? 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 61 
 
 Enter Cleone, l.h. 
 
 Oh, Cleone, help me ! 
 
 What have I done ? Is Pyrrhus yet alive ? [king ? 
 
 What say'st thou? — Answer me — Where is the 
 Cleo. Madam, I saw the cruel prince set for- 
 ward, 
 
 Triumphant in his looks, and full of joy. 
 
 Still as he walk'd, his ravish'd eyes were fix'd 
 
 On the fair captive ; while thro' shouting crowds 
 
 She pass'd along with a dejected air, 
 
 And seem'd to mourn her Hector to the last. 
 Her. Insulting tyrant 1 I shall burst with rage !— 
 
 But say, Cieone, didst thou mark him well? 
 
 Was his brow smooth ? Say, did there not appear 
 
 Some shade of grief? Some little cloud of sor- 
 row ? 
 
 Did he not stop ? Did he not once look back ? 
 
 Didst thou approach him ? Was he not confound- 
 ed ? 
 
 Did he not — Oh, be quick, and tell me all ! 
 Cleo. Madam, the tumult of his joy admits 
 
 No thought but love. Unguarded he march'd 
 on, 
 
 'Midst a promiscuous throng of friends and foes. 
 
 His cares all turn upon Astyaaax, 
 
 Whom he has lodg'd within the citadel, 
 
 Defended by the strength of all his guards. 
 Her. Enough! — He dies! — The traitor! — 
 
 {Crosses to r.h.) Where's Orestes? 
 Cleo. He's in the temple, with his whole reti- 
 nue. 
 
 6* 
 
m D1STREST MOTHER. 
 
 Her. Is he still resolute ? Is he still determined ? 
 
 Cleo. Madam, 1 fear — 
 
 Her. How ! — is Orestes false ? 
 Does he betray me, too ? 
 
 Cleo. A thousand doubts 
 Perplex his soul, and wound him with remorse ; 
 His virtue and his love prevail by turns. 
 He told me Pyrrhus should not fall ignobly — 
 Pyrrhus, the warlike son of great 4chilles. 
 He dreads the censure of the Grecian states ; 
 Of all mankind, and fears to stain his honour. 
 
 Her* Poor tim'rous wretch ! 'tis false ! he 
 basely fears 
 To cope with dangers, and encounter death : 
 5 Tis that he fears. — Am 1 bright Helen's daugh- * 
 
 ter? 
 To vindicate her wrongs all Greece conspir'd ; 
 For her confederate nations fought, and kings 
 
 were slain ; 
 Troy was overthrown, and a whole empire fell* 
 My eyes want force to raise a lover's arm 
 Against a tyrant that has dar'd to wrong me ! 
 
 Cleo. Madam, like Helen, trust your cause to 
 Greece. [pie ; 
 
 Her. No ; 1*11 avenge myself, I'll to the tem- 
 J'H hurl destruction, like a whirlwind, round me ! 
 They must not wed ! they must not live ! they 
 Let me be gone — [shall not ! 
 
 Stand off! hold me not ! I am all distraction! 
 O Pyrrhus ! tyrant ! traitor ! thou shalt bleed. 
 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 63 
 
 Enter Orestes, l.h. 
 
 Ores. Madam, 'tis done : your orders are 
 The tyrant lies expiring at the altar, [obey'd : 
 
 Her. Is Pyrrhus slain ? — 
 
 Ores. Even now he gasps in death. 
 Our Greeks, all undistinguish'd in the crowd, 
 Flock'd to the temple, and dispersed themselves 
 On every side the altar ; I was there : 
 Pyrrhus observ'd me with a haughty eye, 
 And, proud to triumph over Greece in me, 
 From his own brows he took the diadem, 
 And bound it on the temples of his captive. 
 Receive, said he, my crown ! receive my faith, 
 Mine and my people's sovereign reign for ever, 
 From this blest hour, a father to your son ; 
 I'll scourge his foes: henceforward he be styl'd 
 The Trojan king : 
 
 His subjects with loud acclamations shook [out 
 The spacious dome ! our Greeks, enrag'd, cry'd 
 Revenge ; revenge ! broke thro' the thronging 
 
 press, 
 And rush'd tumultuous on the unguarded king. 
 Pyrrhus awhile oppos'd their clashing swords, 
 And dealt his fatal blows on every side, 
 With manly fierceness ; till opprest by numbers, 
 Streaming with blood, all over gush'd with 
 
 wounds, 
 He reePd, he groan'd, and at the altar fell. — 
 Haste, madam ; let us fly ! haste to our ships ! 
 They lie unmoor' d — Our friends attend us there. 
 
 Her. What have thev done ! 
 
64 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Ores. Madam, forgive their rage. 
 I own your vengeance had been more complete, 
 Had Pyrrhus fall'n by me ; and had he known, 
 Hermione chastis'd him by my arm. 
 
 Her. Peace, monster, peace ! — Go tell thy 
 
 horrid tale 
 To savages, and howl it out in deserts. 
 Wouldst thou impute to me thy barbarous guilt ? 
 Me wouldst thou make th' accomplice of thy 
 
 crimes ? [ploits ! 
 
 Hence to thy Greeks ! and boast thy foul ex- 
 My soul abhors them ! I disclaim the deed ! 
 Begone ! I know thee not, thou fell barbarian ! 
 What had he done ? What could provoke thy 
 
 madness 
 To assassinate so great, so brave a man? 
 Who set thee on ? 
 
 Ores. Oh, grant me patience, heaven ! 
 With your own lips did you not curse the tyrant, 
 Pronounce his death, and urge me to destroy 
 
 him ? [passion, 
 
 Her. What if, transported by my boundless 
 I could not bear to see him wed another, 
 Were you t' obey a jealous woman's phrenzy ? 
 You should have div'd into my inmost thoughts : 
 My heart, tho' full of rage, was free from malice ; 
 And all my anger was excess of love. 
 Why did you take me at my word ? You saw 
 The struggles of my soul ; you heard me rave ; 
 You should have question'd me a thousand times, 
 Yet still have doubted, and have question'd on, 
 Before you ventur'd on a life so precious. 
 Ores. Hear me but speak — Heaven knows, 
 
 against my will — ■ 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 65 
 
 Her. Why did you not return? Why not con- 
 sult me 
 A second time ? and, undetermin'd still, 
 Again return, and still find new delays? 
 What had your rash officious Greeks, dire blood- 
 hounds ! 
 To do with my revenge ? What drew you hither? 
 To bring on me the vengeful woes that haunt 
 
 you? 
 Are these the fruits of your detested love? 
 Your fatal embassy, your hateful presence 
 Drove Pyrrhus to my rival, and destroys 
 Both him and me. — He might have lov'd me still, 
 Had you ne'er interpos'd. — Avaunt ! begone ! 
 And leave me in Epirus. — I renounce 
 My friends, my country, Greece, and all mankind : 
 But chiefly I renounce thee ! monster, thee ! 
 
 [Exit, r.h. 
 Ores. Am I awake ? where am I ? Soft, my 
 soul ; 
 
 Be not too rash. — Was that Hermione ? 
 Why should her anger thunder against me ? 
 Was not this blood shed all by her command? — 
 I am indeed a most outrageous monster ! 
 A ruffian, murderer, a base assassin ! 
 And all to please a false ungrateful woman. 
 Henceforward, let the laws of nature cease ; 
 And let the pale that severs right and wrong, 
 Things sacred and profane, be broken down ; 
 Gods in their temples, kings upon their thrones. 
 Are not in safety while Orestes lives. 
 Oh, never more shall my torn mind be heaPd, 
 Nor taste the gentle comforts of repose ! 
 
60 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 A dreadful band of gloomy cares surround me. 
 And lay strong siege to my distracted soul. 
 
 Enter Pylades, l.h. attended by Greeks. 
 
 Pyl. Haste, prince ; let us be gone : 'tis death 
 to stay. 
 
 Andromache reigns queen : she gives the alarm, 
 And vows revenge upon the foes of Pyrrhus. 
 The people arm and muster in the streets : 
 Our Greeks will not be able long to guard 
 The palace gates, and to secure our flight. 
 We must be speedy, sir. 
 
 Ores. You may depart, 
 My friends — Hermione and 1 remain. — 
 Her cruelty has quite undone me i — 
 
 Pyl. Alas, unhappy princess ! — She's no more ; 
 
 Ores. Hermione no more ? — O, all ye powers ! 
 
 Pyl. Full of disorder, wildness in her looks, 
 With hands expanded, and dishevell'd hair, 
 Breathless and pale, with shrieks she sought the 
 
 temple ; 
 
 In the mid-way she met the corpse of Pyrrhus ; 
 She startled at the sight ; then, stiff with horror, 
 Gaz'd frightful ! Waken'd from the dire amaze, 
 She rais'd her eyes to heaven with such a look 
 As spoke her sorrows, and reproach'd the gods; 
 Then plung'd a poinard deep within her breast, 
 And fell on Pyrrhus, grasping him in death. 
 
 Ores. I thank you, gods — -I never could expect 
 To be so wretched ! — You have been industrious 
 To finish your decrees ; to make Orestes 
 A dreadful instance of your power to punish ; 
 I'm singled out to bear the wrath of heaven f 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. 67 
 
 Pyl. You hazard your retreat by these delays. 
 The guards will soon beset us. Your complaints 
 Are vain, and may be fatal. 
 
 Ores. True, my friend : 
 And therefore 'twas I thank'd the bounteous gods, 
 My fate's accomplish'd. — I shall die content. 
 Oh, bear me hence — Blow, winds ! 
 
 Pyl. Let us be gone. 
 
 Ores. The murder'd lovers wait me — Hark, 
 they call ! 
 Nay, if your blood still reeks, I'll mingle mine : 
 One tomb will hold us all. 
 
 Pyl. Alas ! I fear 
 His raving will return with his misfortunes. 
 
 Ores. I am dizzy ! — Clouds ! — Quite lost in 
 utter darkness ! 
 Guide me, some friendly pilot, thro' the storm. 
 I shiver ! Oh, I freeze ! — So — Light returns ; 
 'Tis the grey dawn — See, Pylades ! behold ! — 
 I am encompass'd with a sea of blood ! — 
 The crimson billows ! — Oh ! my brain's on fire ! 
 
 Pyl. How is it, sir ? — Repose yourself on me. 
 
 Ores. Pyrrhus, stand off! — What wouldst 
 How he glares ! [thou ? — 
 
 What envious hand has clos'd thy wounds ? — 
 
 Have at thee. 
 It is Hermione that strikes — Confusion ! 
 She catches Pyrrhus in her arms, — O, save me ! 
 How terrible she looks ! — She knits her brow ! 
 She frowns me dead ; she frights me into madness! 
 Where am 1 ? — Who are you ? 
 
 Pyl. Alas, poor prince ! 
 
 Ores. This is most kind, my Pylades — Oh, why, 
 Why was 1 born to give thee endless trouble ? 
 
68 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 ' 
 
 PyL All will go well — He settles into reason. 
 Ores. Who talks of reason ? Better to have 
 none, [Greeks 
 
 Than not enough. — Run, some one, tell my 
 I will not have them touch the king — Now — now! 
 1 blaze again! — See there — Look where they 
 
 come ; 
 A shoal of furies — How they swarm about me ! 
 My terror ! — Hide me ! — Oh, their snaky locks ! 
 Hark, how they hiss ; — See, see their flaming 
 
 brands ! 
 Now they let drive at me ! — How they grin, 
 And shake their iron whips ! — My ears ! what 
 
 y ellin g ! >J*% 
 
 And see, Hermione ! — she sets them on — 
 Thrust not your scorpions thus into my bosom ! 
 Oh ! — I am stung to death ! — Dispatch me soon ! 
 There — take my heart, Hermione ! — Tear it out ! 
 Disjoint me ! — kill me ! — Oh, my tortur'd soul ! 
 
 (He is borne off, r,h.) 
 
 Enter Phcenix, l.h. attended by Guards. 
 
 Phcen. All, all are fled ! — Orestes is not here ! — 
 Triumphant villains ! — The base, giddy rabble, 
 Whose hands should all have been employ'd 
 with fire, [princess : 
 
 To waste the fleet, flock'd round the dying 
 And, while they stand agaze, the Greeks embark. 
 Oh, 'tis too plain ! — This sacrilegious murder 
 Was authorized. — Th' ambassador's escape 
 Declares his guilt. Most bloody embassy ! 
 Most unexampled deeds ! — Where, where, ye 
 Is majesty secure, if in your temples [gods- 
 
DISTREST MOTHER. &9 
 
 You give it no protection ? — See, the queen. 
 
 (A flourish of trumpets.") 
 
 Enter Andromache, and Cephisa, l.h. with 
 Attendants. 
 
 Jlndr. Yes, ye inhuman Greeks ! the time will 
 come 
 When you shall dearly pay your bloody deeds ! 
 How should the Trojans hope for mercy from 
 you. [Pyrrhus ; 
 
 When thus you turn your impious rage on 
 Pyrrhus, the bravest man in all our league ; 
 The man, whose single valour made you triumph. 
 
 (A dead march behind.) 
 Is my child there ? — 
 
 Ceph. It is the corpse of Pyrrhus ; 
 The weeping soldiers bear him on their shields. 
 
 Andr. Ill-fated prince ! too negligent of life ! 
 And too unwary of the faithless Greeks ! 
 Cut off in the fresh ripening prime of manhood, 
 E'en in the prime of life ; thy triumphs new, 
 And all thy glories in full blossom round thee ! 
 The very Trojans would bewail thy fate. 
 
 Ceph. Alas, then, will your sorrows never end ! 
 Andr. Oh, never, never ! — While I live, my 
 tears 
 Will never cease ; for I was born to grieve. — 
 Give present orders for the fun'ral pomp : 
 
 (To Phcen.) 
 Let him be rob'd in all his regal state ; 
 Place round him every shining mark of honour ; 
 And let the pile that consecrates his ashes, 
 7 
 
70 
 
 DISTREST MOTHER. 
 
 Rise like his fame, and blaze above the clouds. 
 [Exit Phoenix, r.h. A flourish of trumpets. 
 Ceph. The sound proclaims th' arrival of the 
 prince, 
 The guards conduct him from the citadel. 
 Andr. With open arms I'll meet him ! — O, 
 Cephisa ! 
 A springing joy, mixt with a soft concern, 
 A pleasure, which no language can express, 
 An ecstasy, that mothers only feel, [sorrow, 
 Plays around my heart, and brightens up my 
 Like gleams of sunshine in a low'ring sky. 
 
 Tho' plung'd in ills, and exercis'd in care, 
 Yet never let the noble mind despair. 
 When prest by dangers, and beset with foes ; 
 The gods their timely succour interpose ; 
 And when our virtue sinks, o'erwhelm'd with 
 grief, 
 ^ By unforeseen expedients bring relief. 
 
 Disposition of the Characters when the Curtain falls* 
 
 R.H. 
 
 L.H. 
 
^j)il02tte* 
 
 SPOKEN BY ANDROMACHE. 
 
 1 hope you'll own, that with becoming art, 
 I've play *'d my game, and topp'd the widow's part, 
 My spouse, poor man, could not live out the play. 
 But dy'd commodiously on wedding-day, 
 While I, his relict, made, at one bold fling, 
 Myself a princess, and young Sty a king. 
 
 Yon, ladies, who protract a lover's pain, 
 And hear your servants sigh whole years in vain ; 
 Which of you all would not on marriage venture, 
 Might she so soon upon her jointure enter ? 
 
 'Twas a strange 'scape ! had Pyrrhus liv'd till now, 
 I had been finely hamper'd in my vow. 
 To die by one's own hand, and fly the charms 
 Of love and life in a young monarch's arms ! 
 
 'Twere an hard fate ere I had undergone it, 
 
 I might have took one night — to think upon it. 
 
 But why, you'll say, was all this grief exprest 
 jFor a first husband, laid long since at rest ? 
 Why so much coldness to my kind protector ? 
 —Ah, ladies ! had you known the good man Hector— 
 
<*> 
 
 72 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Homer will tell you, (or I'm misinform'd) 
 
 That when enrag'd, the Grecian camp he storm'd : 
 
 To break the ten-fold barriers of the gate, 
 
 He threw a stone of such prodigious weight, 
 
 As no two men could lift, not even of those 
 
 Who in that age of thundering mortals rose ; *k 
 
 It would have sprain'd a dozen modern beaux. 
 
 ( 
 
 At length, howe'er, I laid my weeds aside, 
 And sunk the widow in the well-dress'd bride. 
 In you it still remains to grace the play, 
 And bless with joy my coronation day ; 
 Take then, ye circles of the brave and fair, 
 The fatherless and widow to your care. 
 
 I 
 
 y 
 
 
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